


My Dear, Doctor...

by embarrassingresultofmyfreetime



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Plot, about the Doctor finding all the feelings, and it's painful but in a good way, and they end up being very soft and kind with each other, bc im also soft and i say so, mentions of twelve, now that i got through all those tags, plot oriented, the Master has for her that he's never been able to say, then thirteen talks to dhawan master, thirteen talks to missy, this is a terribly bittersweet fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28352958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embarrassingresultofmyfreetime/pseuds/embarrassingresultofmyfreetime
Summary: The Doctor investigates an anomaly to find that her previous self has stood up their oldest friend for the umpteenth time.Confused as to why the Doctor can't recall ever receiving Missy's invitation in the first place, the Doctor goes searching for answers and ends up finding far more letters than just one...
Relationships: The Doctor & Missy (Doctor Who), The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor/Missy (Doctor Who), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor & Missy, Thirteenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/Missy, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	My Dear, Doctor...

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated T+ for a few mild mentions/implications that Dhawan!Master is suicidal.  
> Anyone who's seen S12 knows that- and therefore I assume anyone who's reading this knows that too- but it's a sensitive topic to a lot of people so this is your courtesy warning.  
> That's it tho. Otherwise I would rate this as G.

There was a disruption in London- as far as the Doctor's Tardis could tell. The Doctor concluded that whatever it was, it had to be extra-terrestrial because her readings were far too eratic for her to conclude anything more precise than that.

She arrived in some dirty side alley to find that it was absolutely pouring. Yep, that was the kind of day she was having alright.

Her fam was off living their dull human-y lives. Dull, and yet the Doctor wondered what it would be like to simply spend time with those she cared about without an agenda or world-ending threat looming over them.

Truth be told, she would probably be terrible at it- but that didn't stop her from piecing together all sorts of plausible hypotheticals to satisfy her own curiosity. Instead of wishing for something she would never have, the Doctor dashed out into the rain with a small device in hand to track the disturbance of space and time.

The crux of the intrusion appeared to be right down this street. The Doctor expected a spaceship hovering in the sky or at least a pair or two of aliens out of pace. Yet nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

Rain was splashing onto the Doctor's hand-held screen in heavy drops as she walked briskly along the stone pavement. Dismayed, the Doctor ducked inside the nearest coffee shop to warm up and gather her bearings.

"You there," a voice broke through the Doctor's busy thoughts, "have you seen my dear friend? Tall, scottish-sounding fellow, dresses like a magician who got lost on his way home, quite the grumpy-looking lad but he means well."

The Doctor wiped off the small device on her shirt as she turned to the owner of the voice. She faltered at the sight.

"No. Sorry miss-" the Doctor had the good fortune to stop herself before she said Missy.

Missy was seated, boldly perched upon a tall chair at a table for two near the large window that ran the length of the shop's front wall.

The Doctor hadn't seen her in ages, but immediately realized that her time jump was most likely the source of the Doctor's strange readings.

The Doctor quickly pocketed the device in her hand.

"Miss?" Missy laughed, "now that's not something I get every day. You flatter me, but I'll have you know I'm quite unhappily married."

Missy beamed with a light laugh in her voice. She had certainly said ' _un_ happily', but her smile suggested sarcasm.

"Such a good dear, my husband," Missy continued as she sipped the cup of tea resting on the tall table before her. "I say husband- but unfortunately, he's a terrible believer in human law, so he would refute that statement. I, myself, have never been much of a believer in any form of the law- but I suppose this is what I get for marrying a 'good guy'," she grinned warmly once more, her words clearly a joke she knew well.

"Are you certain you haven't seen him?" Missy asked hopefully once more, "He casts quite a large shadow. You could drop 20 quid on the ground and he'd chase you through the entire city- come hell or high water- to return it to you."

The Doctor found herself nodding sheepishly while her hearts leapt. She wasn't quite sure why, but maybe it was the warm smile on Missy's lips as she spoke of her version of the Doctor that caused her to smile.

"N-no," the Doctor quickly repeated as she realized the silence had prevailed for a nearly uncomfortable length of time.

Missy looked the current Doctor over more firmly. There was something curious in Missy's narrowed eyes, as though she saw a familiarity that she couldn't quite place.

"Have we met?" Missy pondered aloud.

The Doctor shook her head.

"No," she said again. And it wasn't _quite_ a lie.

The Doctor knew Missy- but from the perspective of someone long gone. The Doctor had the memories of her previous self, but they weren't exactly her own memories. The Doctor knew Missy, but this her had never gotten the pleasure to meet her personally until this very moment.

Seeing Missy again sparked the pleasant sensation of a swift kick to the ribs and being hit over the head simultaneously. There was an old grief lingering in one of this Doctor's hearts, and the thrill of a completely new introduction in the other.

Missy finally tore her eyes away and turned her attention out the window once more. To the dark sky above and the cold, rainy day outside.

"If you say so," Missy eventually digressed, "But if you happen to see him, do give him a kiss from me. I'm afraid he's dismissed my invitation yet again. Or perhaps he _did_ happen to see it for once, and simply forgotten me here anyways."

The Doctor paused. She couldn't recall ever meeting Missy in this shop, in her previous life. And certainly not on a rainy day such as this. She felt quite certain she would have remembered such a thing.

"He... stood you up?" the Doctor considered as she stared at nothing in particular.

The Doctor slowly climbed up to the tall chair across from Missy. Missy appeared mildly surprised by this, but didn't bother stopping her.

It had been a long time since the Doctor had seen the Master- Missy, whoever- this way, but nevertheless the Doctor couldn't ever recall her ever looking so... sad.

Missy forced a smile, as if she had noticed the way her company was observing her.

"It's quite alright, I assure you. I shouldn't be surprised anymore. I sometimes send him an invite for a civilized cup of tea, just... to make sure he's still alive and well considering all his... traveling. But it's just like him to get roped up in some new adventure. Having... _fun_ without me."

Missy sighed, with her right arm on the table and the inside of her other hand gently pressed to her lips.

Even still, as she spoke about knowing that her guest would never arrive, she continued to watch out the window. As if perhaps any second her dear might come into view up the road through the rain with a messy bouquet of flowers in hand like in an old film.

He wouldn't... the Doctor knew. Her past self would not be hurrying by any time soon. To her knowledge, she was quite certain she'd never been here before now- nor had any past variation.

Something in her ached. To watch Missy observe the beautifully rainy day with something so disappointed in her eyes. Something disappointed in _herself_ for thinking her old friend might still appear, and for having waited this long already. Not to mention that Missy would wait for some time more, against her better intuition, and continue to persist on the ever so slight chance that the Doctor simply _was_ late and would run up to her any moment now with a tale of his latest adventure.

"Maybe he didn't get your invitation," the Doctor suggested, "It could have gotten lost in the mail."

Missy shook her head.

"No. I'm quite certain. I delivered it to his... _home_ myself."

The Doctor assumed that could only mean her Tardis.

Missy forced a smile that the Doctor would have believed if she didn't know the Master quite so well.

"It's quite alright, dear. I'm sure you have adventures of your own to be off to," Missy assured her. "I only supposed that... perhaps after what we've recently been through... that my dear might have taken up my offer for once."

Missy shook her head, "But nevermind me. No need to sit here and listen to a lady's woes, such as mine," Missy promised.

There was a short pause and the Doctor bit back an 'I'm sorry'. She let the soft clatter of the shop and patter of rain fill the space.

"Do you have a dear?" Missy then turned to the Doctor somewhat abruptly.

The Doctor's eyes fell to her hands and she forced them not to fidget.

"I... suppose I do. But... things are a bit difficult between us," the Doctor admitted, despite how much it pained her to do so, "to say the least."

"Aren't they always," Missy chuckled softly, "but do you love them?"

The Doctor hesitated, but she couldn't help it. Missy was right there and she wanted nothing more than to apologize a million times over. To tell her she never knew of any invitation, that she was so very, very sorry.

But the Doctor knew better and simply nodded instead.

It was as close as she could get to an apology, "More than anything. That's why it's so difficult."

Missy looked to the window once more, still deeply saddened, and then spared the Doctor one more look.

"You should go to them, on a rainy day like today," Missy suggested with a warmth the Doctor never knew she had. "Let them know you haven't forgotten them."

The Doctor's hearts ached a little at the suggestion.

It... didn't feel that simple.

Before she could reply, Missy held up a finger and retrieved a small item from her pocket. What she pulled out was contained in a small, purple, velvet box.

"You should give this to them," she offered solemnly.

The Doctor looked down at the box, then back to Missy.

Her deep brown eyes had something so warm yet so deeply lost behind them that the Doctor wasn't quite sure what to say.

Missy pushed the box a little closer.

"It won't bite," she promised.

The Doctor looked down and slowly picked up the small box between her hands. She ran her fingers over the crushed velvet for a moment before she opened the small box with that sudden 'pop' jewelry boxes were made with.

Inside sat a small pocket watch with a long chain. One that was meant to be worn on an evening vest.

The watch itself was a beautiful gold with a small button that opened the protective front casing. The face of the clock was trimmed in beautiful, shimmering gallifreyan writing that spiraled across all different times and days, some of which didn't even exist in this dimension.

"It's a watch you never have to wind, nor find a new battery for. Not for the next dozen thousand years at least.

It tells the time relative to... here."

The Doctor briefly wondered if by 'here' Missy meant 'Earth'.

"It was a bit of a joke," Missy said with a soft laugh, "so no matter where he goes, he'll always be able to tell when he's running late- which he always is."

Missy then gave a disappointed sigh.

"But I suppose I, too, am living in the past. I should know by now that he has no interest in paying me any attention unless out of necessity. So you might as well take it."

The Doctor looked the small item over... but then shook her head.

"I- I couldn't. This is beautiful I-"

"I insist," Missy said with an achingly genuine smile.

There was none of her usual energy left, not today, and not alone without the Doctor to play along.

So the Doctor found herself shutting the box and taking it with a small smile.

"Thank you. I'm sorry he couldn't make it," the Doctor apologized.

Missy only shrugged.

"It's quite alright. And it's certainly not your fault. Now run along and find that sweetheart of your own. Give them my love instead."

The Doctor swallowed down the tears in her eyes.

"I think you're right, I will," the Doctor promised with a nod.

Missy returned the nod and then her eyes fell back to the large wall of a window once more.

Missy occupied herself with observing all the humans having a bad day- with the wind and the rain messing up their hair and makeup and clothes- and she took solace in knowing that, in a way, she really wasn't alone in her suffering.

The Doctor had a hard time tearing her eyes off of Missy. It was far more difficult than she would have expected it to be.

Missy was gone for her, and yet she was right there. Didn't the Doctor deserve to let her know? Missy was the Master after all, and this version of the Doctor would certainly love to meet this version of the Master herself.

But the Doctor left and forced herself to walk steadily through the rain. She didn't bother putting her hood up this time, as if the inconvenience and the cold were a punishment she deserved.

The Doctor ducked around the corner- out of Missy's line of sight- and returned to her Tardis.

Once back in her Tardis, the Doctor pulled up her old messages.

There was nothing in there. No invites from Missy or anything of the sort.

The Doctor checked the phone line for old messages. She checked around the console in case there was a physical letter of some sort tucked away that she had missed.

Nothing.

What had Missy meant? That the Doctor had certainly received her invitation and thereafter rejected it?

The Doctor raced about the main room trying to think of where some form of communication could possibly be hidden.

She checked under the stairs, along the back wall, the foyer.

And then it hit her.

Near the front doors on the wall was a small hidden panel with a barely-there slot. The Doctor pressed it down, and the spring released the small holder.

The MAIL. She had never thought to actually check it.

Ever.

It wasn't official, the box didn't have any kind of official address, and so nothing was ever sent to it. The Doctor couldn't recall _ever_ using it. Not once.

She had almost successfully forgotten it existed.

The Doctor's hearts nearly broke open as the box revealed countless letters inside. There were numerous envelopes nearly filling the large drawer.

She could visually date them by the style. Many were a soft, plum purple with little hearts and stickers of kittens with the heads ripped off and stuck on separate from their bodies. The Doctor chuckled weakly, nearly on the verge of tears, at the realization that these were the letters Missy had been referring to.

And there were more, older ones, with fading edges and layers upon layers of dust coated onto them. Black envelopes, white envelopes, purple envelopes, blue, nearly any and every color of various shapes and sizes.

Many, if not most, had some variation of 'My dear' or 'Doctor' or 'My dear, Doctor' written on them- but _all_ of them had two dates marked in the corner. The first labeled when the letter was sent, to ensure meetings were in order for both parties. The second was the date of the event the invitation was inviting the Doctor to.

Inside each envelope was a card. Many of them were funny, cheap, dollar store cards that had some sort of cat or cat-themed joke on them. Even more were postcards from various places and times sent to the Doctor completely arbitrarily.

The Doctor took the huge stack in her hands and set them about the floor to examine all of them.

The Doctor slowly opened them, one by one, from the oldest to the most recent.

They were all different, from all different versions of the Master to all different versions of the Doctor. Different shapes and sizes and colors and styles. However they _all_ suggested a meeting.

They suggested lovely places to catch dinner. New coffee shops to meet for tea. New movies with a ticket already purchased and concealed in the card for the Doctor.

They were invitations to dinner parties in the middle ages and brunch in the distant future. To tag along on to a coworker's birthday and to help scare teenagers at haunted houses. To anything and everything. As if, if the Master kept trying, maybe one day there would be an invitation the Doctor _would_ accept. As if the Master simply hadn't found the right thing to say and if he kept trying, he would eventually find it.

The Doctor sat cross-leg-ed on the floor and read them carefully. Again and again and again. She watched the Master sheepishly suggest an event or two for the Doctor to attend with him if the Doctor happened to be free. She watched him begin to lose hope and yet persist despite having none.

She read letters that sounded like formal invitations and letters where the Master apologized and begged to make things right. She read letters that sounded like the rambles of a broken, drunken man; and letters that sounded like they were written by a beautiful lady hopeless in love with her unrequited crush. She read letters from an awkward childhood friend saying 'hi, it's been a while', and letters from an ancient love asking if their life-long partner was okay.

All of them, from every angle imaginable, to every version of the Doctor imaginable. Every different letter had a different type of love sprawled across its pages- and all this time, the Doctor had no idea any of it had ever existed.

And then.

At last.

There was only one left.

It was from her latest version of the Master to _her_.

He had only sent one.

The Doctor had already been crying silently up to this point, but it must've taken her more than a half hour to get through this last one.

It was dated, the Doctor could only assume, right after the Master had learned of the truth in the Matrix and destroyed Gallifrey for good.

It looked new enough, but inside the pristine envelope was just a single page of paper torn from a notebook. It was crumpled and damaged. It smelled like ginger candies and alcohol and had the texture of dried tears on the page.

The message wasn't long.

"My Dear, Doctor,

I have to assume you don't read these.

I've assumed it for a long time, but I've always thought that perhaps, one day, you would eventually get curious enough to open one.

I don't think this one will be it- especially not after what I've done- so I suppose that means... I'm free to say whatever I'd like."

His letters became darker, bolder, as his anger and despair bleeded through from himself to the page.

"I assume you shred them, maybe burn them. But I feel certain that you never open them.

If you do, then congratulations. You're even more heartless than I am.

Imagine that."

The letters changed slightly, suggesting he had paused briefly and then resumed.

"If you don't... then...

I suppose... that means I can say that I'm sorry.

Seeing as you'll never bother to read it.

Not for what I did. I'm not sorry for all our games. I've enjoyed them actually. They're always the highlight of my year.

No.

I'm sorry for what this knowledge will do to you. To _us_.

I'm sorry I ever went home. That I ever looked in the Matrix. I always make such a mess of everything I should have known better."

His letters were large, loop-y, messy, and they only got worse as they went on.

"I don't know what to do. Do I pretend it never happened? Do I keep it locked away? But it burns, Doctor, like a plague in my mind. I can't keep it from you. You deserve to know your own life. But I can't tell you, I don't want to, because: what will it do to you? To us?

I always hoped things would work out somehow. That we could be friends again. That-"

He scribbled out the rest of the line beyond repair.

His letters grew sharper, despite how messy and large his letters were written.

"Maybe that's what I'll do. Be your friend. One last time. I'll let you win, for once. I'll do as you please.

And once it's over, you'll do what I want. You'll let this be over because I can't-

I can't do it anymore.

So that's what I'll do. And I hope it works. And if it doesn't... well... _you don't read these anyways_.

XOXO The Master"

Just like all of Missy's were signed, along with everyone else before them.

The Doctor's own tears splashed to the paper to join the Master's.

She had no idea the Master sent these. That the Master had been pouring their hearts out for ages, asking for a chance to meet in a civilized manner and simply talk, just _waiting_ for the day the Doctor might take them up on their offer.

The Doctor hadn't known any of that until now.

She wondered how much different their lives might be if she had only figured it out sooner.

The envelope was still marked with two dates in the corner like all the rest. And the crumpled paper had a few things scribbled out on it's corner, but one remained: the coordinates to a famous park in England.

The Doctor stared at the dates once more, her chest aching.

The first was when the letter was sent. The second was the meeting date.

The Master had said he wanted this to 'be over'.

She was scared to know what he had meant. What did he mean that he can't do this anymore?

She was nervous to face him- now of all times- but she knew she had to.

The Doctor wiped away the tears and snot from her face and then raced to her console.

Missy was right. She had to go to him. She had to make this right.

The Master was sitting on a bench, in the park, with a drink in his hand and an identical cup sat next to him, reserving the seat for someone he had finally gotten through his stubborn head would not be showing up anytime soon nor ever.

The Master stared blankly into the distance.

No one was out today. It was pouring. Of all the days to invite the Doctor to meet him at the park, he had picked the absolute worst one.

He didn't know why he kept doing this to himself, but this was the only date he had sent the Doctor to meet him.

The Doctor wouldn't show up, the Master already knew. She never did. No Doctor ever did. And that was fine. He was used to it.

It hurt, but the pain it brought was a familiar company. He would spend today, alone, with a tiny burning feeling in his hearts that maybe there still was a chance the Doctor would show up- even when his head told him there was none.

This was his punishment, he supposed, for still being alive.

For failing to convince the Doctor to kill them both in a blaze of glory.

So he sat there, as the cold water soaked his hair and dripped down his face and chilled him to the bone- because at least when he was in pain he felt something that resembled being alive.

Not that he wanted to be.

He just couldn't bring himself to quit.

This was the suggested meeting place of the last letter he'd sent. It didn't feel right to leave until he had seen it all the way through, especially after all this time.

It felt only right to suffer through one last evening alone and fulfill his end of his last request. He still didn't know why this version of him had bothered to send one at all- but it appeared that old habits die hard. He only knew that it with any luck: would be his last and he would finally learn to never send one ever again.

"This seat taken?" someone asked.

"I had hoped it would be," the Master said without an ounce of a laugh and not a sight registering in his eyes. He just stared into the distance and held his undranken cup.

"But I suppose not," he concluded.

The Master felt a hand press at his shoulder and he glanced over to see-

"Doctor," the Master breathed. A shaky, awestruck breath fell from his lips as his eyes finally registered the Doctor's face. The sight of her felt like a blade of ice being struck through his chest.

The Doctor sat down next to him and he turned around to face her, one leg folded before him and the other on the pavement beneath him. The Master couldn't help but be in shock at her sudden presence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, baffled as clear as day.

"You invited me," the Doctor smiled as she turned to mirror him. "Sorry I'm late!"

She picked up the spare cup on the bench and let it warm her cold hands for a moment.

"This for me?" the Doctor asked as cheerfully and unworried as always.

The Master swallowed down the tears threatening his eyes.

He couldn't find the right words to say.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be downright furious. He was good at those emotions- but instead his mind was blank.

The Doctor set the cup down once more and shrugged off her coat. She then spun it around the Master like a cape and leaned in closer to pull the hood up to shield the Master's drenched and shaking figure. The Doctor carefully fitted the fabric over his head and shoulders, and then gently brushed a few loose strands of the Master's soaked hair from his face. Once she could see him properly, she gave him a reassuring smile.

The Master was still deciding how to feel when he abruptly realized that the Doctor was just as bad off as he was. Her eyes and cheeks were red despite the near-freezing rain pouring over her. It quickly soaked down her hair and through her long white sleeves. A chilling breeze blew past, that the Master _knew_ she must be freezing, but the Doctor ignored it.

"I got the letters you sent. I just found them today," the Doctor explained.

Something terrified flashed behind the Master's eyes.

"All of them?" he breathed slowly.

"Yes. All of them," the Doctor confirmed softly.

"I'm here to apologize. I had no idea," the Doctor explained wholeheartedly, her hands gesturing out before her, just above her lap,

"I never meant- I didn't know- You never said!"

The Master's eyes were filling with tears but he couldn't find it in him to say a thing.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said, her eyes staring deeply into his.

The Master could see that she actually meant it.

And because of that, he didn't know how to respond.

All of the letters? He had speculated for a long time that the Doctor just tossed them into the nearest star the moment they saw any of his letters. Maybe the Doctor lit them on fire themself if they were feeling especially cruel.

The Master had put them in the most obvious place he could think of, directly next to the door the Doctor passed in and out of every day for all their lives.

And yet the Doctor simply... never realized they were there?

"Why did you keep sending me letters? If you never believed I got them?" the Doctor eventually asked to break the silence.

The Master shook his head softly with a shaky breath.

He wanted to be angry. At the Doctor, at himself; but more than anything, he felt relieved.

"I blame your foolish notion of hope," the Master finally managed to choke out.

The Doctor chuckled a little at that.

He was happy she did. She always did like to go on about hope. To think, all this time the Master had held the tightest to it.

"Come with me?" the Doctor asked softly.

The Master nearly lost his breath.

"What?"

"Come with me," the Doctor repeated more steadily. "Back to my Tardis. Stay for a while and I'll make you the tea you invited me to when I stood you up. And we can watch the movie we never got to see together. And I'm not much of a cook, but I'll try to make you the dinner I missed and afterwards, we can have the icecream we never got to have. And you can stay the evening, and tomorrow I'll make you the brunch you invited me to.

I know I can't make it right, but let me try," the Doctor requested.

There was a quiet pause as the rain pounded heavily against the pavement and the surface of the small lake nearby. They were both soaked, but the Doctor's coat was keeping the Master covered while she sat there and froze for him.

The Master was surprised that the Doctor's offer appeared quite sincere.

"You... really didn't know?" the Master asked as his tears splashed at his lashes and already soaked face.

"I didn't," she promised. "I never knew. I so often asked if we could just talk, and all this time I was the one ignoring _you_."

The Doctor shivered and shook her head in frustration,

"I only found out because... well..."

The Doctor reached closer and pulled something from the inside pocket of her own jacket. She offered it to the Master.

Confused yet curious, he looked at the Doctor's smile and then down at the box. He opened it slowly and his face lost even more of its warmth.

He froze for a moment more.

"You... That was _you?_ All those years ago?" he asked breathlessly.

The Doctor nodded.

"It was an accident. I was there to get out of the rain. I had no idea you were there waiting for me. And once you mentioned the letters, I nearly tore my Tardis apart trying to find them!"

The Master chuckled weakly. This was a lot to process.

"So come with me? To get out of this rain if nothing else?" the Doctor requested again.

The Master nodded weakly from under the hood of the Doctor's coat. He had planned on spending today working out a whole new plan to get himself killed in a way worthy of someone as dramatic as himself.

This... This was the last thing he had expected.

The Doctor stood up and offered the Master a hand.

The Master held the Doctor's coat tight over himself and accepted her invitation with a shaking hand.

The Doctor led him through the rain, the stillness of the beautiful park only interrupted by their steps, and to her Tardis.

When they entered the Tardis, the Master froze at the sight of his letters scattered all about the Tardis floor. They were in a big semicircle, organized from oldest to newest.

He looked them over and ducked further beneith the Doctor's coat like a child trying to hide.

He was embarrassed to see all the times he had been vulnerable laying there out in the open for anyone to see. The sight of them brought back memories and feelings he didn't know he was still capable of.

The Master swallowed back his tears and pretended not to shiver from the cold rain soaked through him. The little mail slot in the wall was still open, where the letters had resided up until now. He was so embarrassed his defenses begged him to lash out, but he forced away the instinct.

After dozens, maybe hundreds of requests for the Doctor's attention- he couldn't refuse the one time she had accepted.

"I can't go back and fix the times I missed. Timelines to maintain and all that," the Doctor began, "but I wish I could. I'm sure we would have had a lot of fun, you and I."

The Master gave a small nod. He could barely breathe and it was taking every ounce of energy he had not to show how much this all hurt.

He'd never known how to talk to her. He had sent these believing the Doctor tossed them into the nearest star and never read a word. All he could hope was that maybe, some day, she would open one instead and agree to meet him somewhere for a civil meal to enjoy each other's company. He never even _considered_ the fact that she just... didn't know.

He felt so stupid.

"You alright?" the Doctor asked softly.

"It's just like you to only find them now," the Master confessed through a consuming agony. "To only start reading them when I wasn't going to send any more. To start hoping we can work something out right when I've finally given up."

The Master couldn't stop his tears as they splashed from his eyes, not that they made much of a difference to his soaked figure.

Still, he did his best to maintain his composure. Even if he was crying, he wouldn't let his body betray him. The tears fell silently and harmlessly.

"I'm past all that," he said as he shook his head sharply. It made his chest ache to say.

He didn't want to forget what they'd once had- but he had to. The Doctor would outlive him, the same way the Master outlived humans. His role in their story didn't matter anymore. Or at least, not for much longer. He would die and be forgotten in the Doctor's past like all the others who had traveled with them.

The Master was tired. And he was done.

He'd lost.

So no more of this song and dance. No more hopeful little messages, no more grand plans. He couldn't keep going like this anymore, stepping over the line between good and evil and failing at both. He only wanted to be opposite and equal to the Doctor, and now he didn't know how to be either of those things.

He shook his head as he stared down at the cards,

"These are the words of a hopeful fool- but I am neither hopeful nor a fool anymore."

The Doctor approached him slowly, one small step at a time.

She reached up for the hood of her own coat, swung about the Master's shoulders, and lowered it.

"I never knew you cared," she said softly. "Not like that at least."

The Master shook his head, his cheeks red and yet pale from both fear and the cold.

"It doesn't matter. Those aren't me anymore. I get it now. You'll always go on, to have other adventures with other people... without me.

It's not you and me above everyone else. It's just you- racing about the universe while I'm unable to keep up.

You'll always live on. Even when I die, and whatever friend or enemy I thought I was, whatever purpose I thought I had... _It won't matter._ "

The Master was shaking again, more from the anger riling him up all over again than the numbing cold.

"Why couldn't you have just killed us on Gallifrey?"

He had meant to shout it, to demand an answer, but he couldn't get the words out in more than a whisper.

"At least we would have died together. We could have traveled somewhere new together one last time."

The Master didn't get to see the Doctor's reaction as she suddenly hugged him. Her hands slid gently around his middle until they locked into place and her face hid against the side of his neck.

"Don't talk like that," the Doctor said quietly, tears evident in her own voice.

The Master didn't know how to react beneath her gentle touch. He wrapped his own arms around her in return and hid his face in her shoulder. He held her as tight as he could and leaned close into her.

He... couldn't remember the last time he had been held like this.

He tried to suppress the embarrassing tremble in his shoulders as he began to cry silently against her. He could barely breathe- and the force of keeping himself quiet was giving him a headache- but he refused to crumble completely.

"Why didn't you? Why did you leave?" he whispered quietly, "Why do you always leave?"

It hurt like nothing he'd ever known.

The Doctor's arms pulled noticeably tighter around him.

"I don't know," she eventually admitted, "I... was scared."

The Master found himself laughing.

It was terrible, and painful, and absolutely the wrong time for a laugh, but it beat crying.

"So was I, Doctor," the Master admitted.

He then shook his head.

"So _am_ I. Because... what happens now?"

The Doctor took a long, calming breath that really didn't help at all. She didn't know either.

"Now..." the Doctor paused, "Now, you change into some dry clothes and we get you some warm food."

The Master chuckled again.

"Really, Doctor-"

"I mean it!" the Doctor assured him, a bit of her usual energy flooding back to her.

"We can talk about all that another time. For tonight, let's be civil and enjoy each other's company. Please?"

The Doctor pulled away but kept her hands on the Master's shoulders. He looked away, not wanting to look her in the eye.

"And don't do anything rash," she asked.

The Master looked up at that.

The Doctor's emotion nearly overwhelmed him. She looked concerned for him, deeply and honestly.

The Master paused and then nodded slowly.

"I'm just... so tired. It's not fun anymore knowing... Knowing what we know now."

The Doctor looked just as upset as he did.

"I know," her voice caught a little. "I don't want to live without you. I never have, but especially not now. If we hadn't been interrupted on Gallifrey... I don't know what I would have done."

The Master reached to hug her all over again. He'd never even considered that. He would have never even considered that the Doctor might not want to lose him.

"We'll think of something, alright?" the Doctor promised. "We will. But until then, just stay. I'm sure you'll be able to find something in the wardrobe until we dry your clothes. Please?" the Doctor begged.

The Master smiled, slightly, and for a single moment he was content.

"Okay," the Master agreed.

The Master was still cold, even in the warm pj pants and t-shirt he had picked out, but the Doctor was helping with that. Upon his return from the wardrobe, the Doctor pressed some kind of warm stuffed animal into his arms and wrapped the Master's exhausted and freezing figure up in thick, heavy blankets.

She gave him headphones that played gentle melodies and situated them both on a comfortable couch near the fireplace. Once they were settled, the Doctor pulled the Master's shivering figure protectively into her arms.

He was still upset- this him was always upset- but he had to admit that this was a world better than what he was used to.

He wanted the nightmare he'd uncovered to be over- but he had to admit, this was a very good distraction.

The Doctor was saying something, but he wasn't quite paying attention to it beyond the soothing vibrations her voice sent through him. He was too focused on the feeling of the Doctor's fingers gently combing through his hair. She was so gentle and thorough that he could feel the lingering impressions of her fingertips long after she had stopped. He soon fell lax against her and was drifting off as the Doctor presumably pressed light kisses to the top of his head.

The Master did his best to categorize the feelings tangled up inside of him, but he was fighting a losing battle to the exhaustion it cost him to do so.

All he knew was that the Doctor reignited that tiny spark of hope inside him. The one that kept him writing letters and waiting and persisting even when he felt certain he should give up.

That hope was still there and maybe that could be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> So fun fact!  
> This started with a prompt idea for Spyvember. I think it was either 'rainy day' or 'coffee shop' that inspired this. But then I got really carried away with this concept of the Master writing the Doctor letters because he can never find the words to say that they genuinely enjoy the Doctor's company, and never brings it up because they assume the Doctor is simply ignoring them.  
> And then it became this lol  
> Honestly tho, I really love the wording of this story. It turned out so good for some reason and I love the way 13 interacts with Missy and Dh!Master in this.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!! <3


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